


The Kindness of Ice

by GloriaMundi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Deal with a Devil, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:10:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaMundi/pseuds/GloriaMundi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Oh, but you are truly their most impressive weapon, are you not? The lost soldier, falling forever into the ice." The voice became softer, though not too soft for the Asset to hear. "I am intimately familiar with ice. And with falling. We are alike."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kindness of Ice


    Your target is a threat to the whole world. He promises freedom, but what he means is subjugation. Hydra cannot bring peace if you do not eliminate the target. Do you understand?

He understood.

The target had set up headquarters in an abandoned mine. Infiltration was achieved without incident. Collateral damage: eighteen personnel. The Asset's goggles were in night mode. He moved through a world of green and black. He eliminated any obstructions. The air in the mine was close and warm. The Asset had been shown maps and plans of the mine's layout. He went towards the former office spaces, watching as the radiation readings grew stronger in the display at the corner of his eye.

"Soldier," came a voice from speakers above the Asset. "I suppose I should be flattered. It's quite the compliment, after the petty threats they've sent against me before."

The Asset did not speak: did not look up. Distractions were irrelevant.

Ahead of him the air shimmered, and abruptly his target was there in front of him. Tall, dark-haired, a horned helmet on his head. The Asset paid little attention to trends in clothing, but the target's clothing seemed unusual to him. The target held a sceptre, which the Asset would retrieve when his primary mission was complete. The sceptre had a blue gem that –

The target was not present. What the Asset saw was some illusion. The radiation readings had not registered any presence.

The Asset went on, through the illusion.

"Such rudeness!" said the voice. "Oh, but you are truly their most impressive weapon, are you not? The lost soldier, falling forever into the ice." The voice became softer, though not too soft for the Asset to hear. "I am intimately familiar with ice. And with falling. We are alike."

The Asset was not like anybody. The Asset was unique.

"Only a little further, and we shall truly meet," said the voice.

The Asset slowed his pace, checking every angle. The radiation readings were climbing steadily. There was a blue, flickering light somewhere ahead of him. The walls of the corridor were moist with water: condensation. The air was growing warmer.

"Soldier," said the target, as the readings peaked. "You see we are alone."

The Asset flicked his gaze left, right, up. Only the two of them in this space, where light bulbs buzzed dully and machinery hummed. The blue light of the stone in the sceptre was brighter than everything else. The target was smiling at the Asset.

"I know who you are," said the target.

The Asset did not speak: no reply was necessary, or required.

"And I know who you ... _were_ said the target, head tilted.

The Asset fired: three heavy-gauge rounds. 

"Oh, come now. Let’s at least discuss the situation first," said the target.

The Asset had \-- the Asset did not miss. The target had dodged, somehow.

"You were a soldier," said the target. "-- No, please don't shoot me again. It's very tiresome."

The Asset found himself unable to move. This seemed familiar. It would be temporary. He waited.

"You were a soldier," said the target. "You were made into something more. You fell, into the snow and the night and the ice. You were found, and remade once again. ... Did I say that we had a great deal in common?"

The Asset was still paralysed. He stared at the target. The target had very green eyes. The gem in the sceptre glowed more brightly than before. No: the gem was closer. The target had moved towards him.

"I believe," said the target, "that you would be invaluable to my purpose. But first --" He pulled something -- _shockingly bright shockingly wrong readings spiking blue as blue as_ \-- from within his robe and tossed it to the Asset –

\-- who, suddenly able to move, instinctively brought his hand, his right hand, up to catch it -- reflex, reaction -- before it smashed into his face, and –

*

His legs wouldn't hold him. He fell, curled, howled. Seventy years of memory rolled over him like a glacier, like a lava flow, like a tsunami. Hell, this was hell, and it hurt it hurt it hurt –

"Come now," said his target. "Come and be healed, soldier. Let me take the pain --"

"No," said James Barnes. He was crying. "No. It's mine."

"Then keep it. And fight at my side against those who have unmade you."

"Who the hell --" 

"I am Loki of Asgard," said the target. "I am burdened with glorious purpose. And we have a great deal in common, you and I."

*

"They told me he was dead," said Barnes, staring at the screen. 

He scrolled through another page of old, scanned newspapers, yellow with age (they'd been printed after he fell) but he didn't bother reading the headlines. Captain America was lost, a plane crash. Turned out there was one truth that Hydra told. 

"They lied," said Loki, his saviour. "He fell. His plane crashed. But they never found the body." 

Barnes shrugged. "So? Thousands of guys were lost at sea. Even with Steve's damned serum, he couldn’t survive a plane crash in the middle of the polar ice cap." 

Dimly he remembered Steve -- back before the war -- telling him about polar bears and why they never ate penguins. Which was because ... Damn. He opened his mouth to ask -- it was as daft a question as any -- but Loki spoke first. 

“On the contrary, Sergeant, I'd say there was a very good chance that he survived." 

“Then where the hell is he? Nah, don't pull that one on me. No way is Steve alive and kicking out there. He'd ... He came for me before.” 

“He wouldn't come for you if he thought you were dead," said Loki. "And indeed, I believe he is not strictly alive. No more so than you yourself were, when Hydra put you into their chamber of ice.” 

“I ain't no Steve Rogers. And –“ 

“No ordinary man -- no purely human man -- could have survived what you have survived, James Barnes. There is ...” The pale nostrils dilated, as though Loki were sniffing out something about Barnes. Barnes suppressed an inappropriate giggle. He remembered his ma doing that, when she thought he'd been drinking hooch out back of the gym. (He had, but he knew better'n to go home reeking of it. Sucking a lemon sherbet did the trick.) “There's something unusual about you, Sergeant,” said Loki, drawing out the adjective as though it tasted especially delicious. “Something that preserved you through all the years ... all the pain ... all the cold.”

“What if it did?” 

“I know something, myself, of years and pain and cold.” Looking into those ice-green eyes, Barnes could believe it. “So I propose that, in exchange for an unspecified favour from yourself, I help you find the current resting place of Captain America. And then we shall see if the ice was as kind to him as it was to you.” 

“I wouldn't say kind.” 

“Ah, but it was the warmth after that was cruel, was it not? And you will be the one to bestow that gift upon your long-lost love.” 

He -- Well, fuck it. 

“You know what?” said Barnes. “I don't care anymore. Don't care what you think, or think you know. Yeah, I loved Steve Rogers.” (Funny how he still had to stifle the impulse to look around, to check if anyone else was listening in.) “An' yeah, I'd give a lot to have him back by my side. But what's this favour you want me to do you?” 

“Oh,” drawled Loki of Asgard, “I'm sure I'll think of something.”


End file.
